


Ballet of the Butterflies

by changkyunnie



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Art, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Dancing, Eventual Smut, Financial Issues, Fluff sometimes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention Of Homophobia, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Tattoos, biker wonho, broken!kihyun, broken!wonho, deep and philosophical, i can't say much without spoiling, lots of angst be warned, mention of homelessness, mention of past hyungwonho, sorry I suck at tagging, two minor violence scenes (no blood don't worry), verY sad ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changkyunnie/pseuds/changkyunnie
Summary: Kihyun is a victim of professional ambition, and Hoseok is everything that he is not supposed to want.





	1. Prologue: Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic on ao3 (just got my account today!) but not my first fic ever. I have this posted on asianfanfics as well as another completed kaisoo fic, so check me out on there if you get a chance :) my username is @thebiggestnuestfan

It isn’t the first time he’s visited the city.

Flashbacks of midnight air and a taste on his tongue that he cannot describe swim across his mind in careful precision. Or maybe they fly, he has no idea.  
The nostalgia, however, is short-lived, as one foot after another leaves the taxi door to hit the cement beneath his toes. The driver mumbles a quick goodbye before setting off, destination forever changing, leaving the short male to ponder on the sidewalk. Dusk approaches in rapid blasts of whispering winds, the city pulling him along with the crowds.  
Vague thoughts of what would have been labelled as bright now seem dim and washed away. Any feeling of exhiliration he has for the place trickles out in drops of one, two, and three, until it is completely gone, as if it had never been there in the first place. He adjusts his handling on the briefcase he clutches, looking quite small as the surrounding activity suffocates him.

Kihyun sighs.

No, he doesn’t. Kihyun never sighs. Never complains, lets life drag him forward in a tempo that is torturously slow.

With that mannerism embedded in him, he stands tall with an air of efficiency, and plasters on his most stoic glare. He’s too good at it, too good to be the norm of regular citizens. But he tells himself it will never be good enough. There’s something about the artificiality that may have been comforting long ago, however now lost among the papers and the soft clicks of his office keyboard.

It’s routine, albeit not the best kind, but he tells himself it works just fine, it has to.

As he treads down the city streets the faint aroma of petrichor invades his senses, giving his mind a place to relax for just this moment. The earthy stench is calming as it fills his thoughts with something entirely new and undiscovered, much like uncharted land. He takes a breath of the passing draft and holds it, desperately clinging to this feeling before he has to let go forever.

While Kihyun makes his way down the dreary sidewalk of the big city he takes notes on its appearance, and wonders where he’s seen it all before. Something about the way the buildings reach for the sky with open palms, the rushing crowds like waves of ocean blue. There’s something about the broken laughter that filters out through a nearby bar door, and the streets alive with nameless people he will probably never come to know. Something about it is all too memorable.

So he pushes it all away, sets up a barrier of cement and complex concrete to keep it all out.  
Kihyun doesn’t have the time to think.

He’s just about made it to his hotel when he is suddenly face down, palms scraped and cement dashed with drops of blooming cherry red. His knees brush against the ground as he catches his fall, dress pants no doubt stretching or tearing (he will have to fix that before the meeting).

He doesn’t remember falling. In a confused bout of rage, Kihyun is about to yell at his attacker when a hand is thrusted into his field of vision. But it’s not just a hand.  
The hand is connected to an arm, and that arm to a body, said arm covered in an intricate design of a magnificent feather. The length of the feather runs all down his arm, twisting and turning until it arrives at a stop near the wrist. Kihyun finds himself thinking it rather beautiful. “I’m so sorry,” the man apologizes. The voice is deep and smooth, and it draws Kihyun’s attention to his face. He wishes it hadn’t.

The man holding out his hand to him is nothing short of stunning, with a shock of blonde hair swept up in the current fashion. Piercings line his ear like shining stars in the afternoon’s dim light, complimented by his glowing complexion. The man’s eyes are worried, with a sharp nose and full lips to complete the package. Kihyun almost forgets to speak.  
“Are you okay, man?” the stranger asks, eyes growing heavy with worry again. Just how hard had he hit him?

“O-oh, yeah I’m good. Sorry about that,” he replies, cheeks burning. He accepts the hand offered to him and internally notes how soft it is, despite the tough stature the stranger possesses. Once he is up and back on his feet, the man gives him a true smile. It’s not a smile you see in commercials or advertisements, or even the smile one gives an acquaintance. This smile is all white and no dark, a beacon of light under the clouds of grey that hang overhead.  
Cherry blossom petals flutter along in the breeze, the sun glinting from behind the clouds at this very moment to capture what could have been the shot of a romance movie. The smile is complimented by a dull warmth that clings to Kihyun, and it all but takes his breath away.

It’s a smile Kihyun hopes he can hold on to the memory of.

~~~~

Sadly, he doesn’t.

Kihyun has forgotten all about the stranger by the time three o’ clock rolls around, the time switching his facade from relaxed to entirely serious. He’s giving himself a quick pep talk in the mirror to ensure his perfection infront of his colleagues today, not wanting to screw up at the wrong time.

But as he looks in the mirror he stops. The face that mocks him in the glass becomes more unrecognizable as the days pass by. It’s not Kihyun he’s seeing anymore, but his father. Not a speck of dirt on his clothes, all fresh-printed smiles and ironed blazers, perfectly styled hair and dull dress shoes void of the shine they once boasted. Not one part of him is unique, just a replica of any other successful businessman he’s met.

He catches himself thinking back to the first time he came to this place.

\---

It was a humid night, so many summers ago, when Kihyun was still Kihyun. His parents were taking him on a rare trip to have some fun, something Kihyun almost never got to do.  
When they first arrived, the young boy was fascinated with all the lights and colour that seemed to fly around his vision like a real live pop up book. The buildings were so high up that he had to crane his neck just to see them, catching a glimpse of the twilight sky. The air was filled with multiple scents and the breeze carried with it something almost magical. As the car sped through the sleek city streets, the August wind ruffled his hair and his bangs tickled his forehead. It was amazing.

But their destination itself was far more beautiful. His parents had brought him to the city’s parade for the summer festival, and as it began Kihyun fell into a trance.  
Dancers of all kinds and colour filled the streets with the hue of a rainbow, their costumes bright and iridescent. Feathers, wings and all kinds of props sprouted from their bodies, and the performers seemed to fly as they made their way down the road.

It wasn’t the dancers themselves that had Kihyun so captivated, but the literal dance of which they put on display. The way their limbs rushed around in a flurry of excitement had his mind in awe. The dancers fluttered and drifted along their way in a ballet style, pairs or singlets like delicate flowers with their extreme fidelity.

Kihyun fell in love that day.

\---

 

He changes into a fresh pair of pressed slacks before making his way toward the elevator, determined to have a perfect arrival time for his conference. The watch on his wrist is a constant reminder of the expectations people have for him as it ticks away, counting down the seconds to his end. He could take it off, yet he doesn’t. Knows he shouldn’t.  
The elevator ride is hurried, worrisome creaks sounding from all directions of the space. The creaks are blocked from his hearing, however, as he feels the twinge of monochromatic ashes fill his nose. The air is just lightly tainted with the smell of dying cigarette smoke, old but not forgotten. Whoever had been here moments before must have just finished one, and he finds himself wondering once again why he had chosen this hotel. The shower was colder than the Arctic tundra, the beds whined with complaints upon being used and he feared for his safety just merely using the elevator. He knows he would feel happier in a place like this, though.

Although it may not be the case for many others, Kihyun loves the experience. For once he can live without his air of importance, just a few nights or a few weeks among normal people, people with problems, people living their lives without the breath of riches wedged in between the strict hours of 6 AM and 8 PM. He likes to act as if he hasn’t built a life for himself in which he can’t even find grounds to complain on.

The elevator signals his arrival with a soft ding sound, and with it comes a sigh of both exasperation and relief. He musters up all the will in his body before exiting the contraption.

The lobby of the hotel is relaxed, an atmosphere that breathes in stress and exhales something a lot more tranquil. The air itself is warm with welcome energy, and it’s a sad thought that it is wasted on him. He always tries to enjoy it, but he never does.

It’s on that day in June that something changes, the balance of everything put-off from that point on. It happens with a swealtering hot breeze, said breeze picking up the faint scent of glowing ember. Kihyun is oblivious to the coloured skin, indifferent to the stick of ash that dangles loosely from in between full lips. He’s in too much of a rush to notice the way someone glances at him from under blunt cut bangs, and to the sound of the engine revving just a few feet away. Even if Kihyun could notice, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to, because something about the image screamed trouble.

The man enveloped in a cloud of silver squints, processing the scene as Kihyun storms away.

All he sees is someone with clipped wings.

\---

A grunt of satisfaction escapes Kihyun’s lips as he allows himself to sink into the soft mattress, the meeting had gone on for longer than it should have and he’s exhausted. The time is somewhere around 8 at night, the twilight sky gleaming as the background for the entire city. Outside of his window, the world is truly awake as all the lights of each and every window of each and every building light the sky ablaze with their radiance.  
As spent as Kihyun is at the moment, he feels this might just be the perfect opportunity. Nobody would be around to pester him or question him, and his only audience would be the dusk clouds, the racing cars thousands of feet below and his own heart that flutters with excitement in his chest. He nods his head as if to reassure himself before slowly lifting himself off of the bed to dig around in his suitcase.

After pushing multiple items aside, inside the bag he finds his trusty outfit –adidas sweatpants and an old high school tee. It’s not an outfit he dares to wear in the house, save for the times his parents leave it vacant. Those were the best times, the times where Kihyun was free to spread his wings without having to worry about how far out they reach. He lets himself think about his parents for a moment before snatching up the outfit and hurriedly throwing it on. It doesn’t take him long, and soon he’s ripping out of his hotel room door.

A blast of the evening’s slightly cool breath curls around his figure the moment he steps onto the roof. He’s about to back out, afraid that it may be breaking several rules to be up here –especially at this time of the night. But if he can’t make it work out here, he isn’t sure where else he can go. His hotel room was tediously small and much too cramped to practice any form of dance in there. So he lets out a shaky breath and tells himself it will have to do.

The view that greets him as he makes his way farther out is what one could describe as breathtaking. The whole world is awake beyond this rooftop, and the city almost seems to breathe with life, jittering lights flashing here, there, and everywhere his eye could meet. Kihyun almost forgets about how high up he is as he stares upon the scene with eyes that reflect millions of little stars. If he hadn’t come up here to practice he thinks he could just sit and gaze upon it for hours on end.

His thoughts are rudely interrupted by the thick scent of smoke that suddenly seems to enrapture him, and he lets out a light cough, not thinking much of it at first. It’s when he can see the smoke beginning to surround him that he realizes he may not be alone up here, and with that he cranes his neck to survey the roof.

Leaning against the wall beside the entrance is what he thinks to be a familiar face, or maybe it’s just his imagination. But he couldn’t be imagining the taste of nicotine in the air, and he realizes that this is very real. There is a man, a quite handsome one at that, staring him down from across the rooftop. Said man nurses a glowing cigarette in between strong fingers and licks a dusting of ash from his perfectly shaped lips. Kihyun’s eyes are drawn to the many etchings that cascade down his skin, and feels his heart stop upon seeing the familiar feather crawling down one of his toned arms.

“Who would have thought I’d meet someone up here tonight? And you, at that,” he chuckles, the laugh lighter than Kihyun had expected to be. He remembers him now, and finds himself thinking that it may have been better if he hadn’t. This seems like the exact kind of man people like his parents would turn their noses up to. He was the walking definition of wild with his black muscle tank and inked physique, even sporting a couple of piercings on his ears. The stranger puffed out a cloud of toxicity to inhale a bout of fresh air.

“What’s the matter? You look a little sad.” The man puts his cigarette out on the wall, ashes hissing, before tossing it into a nearby garbage can with careful precision. He walks over to where Kihyun stands stunned against the rooftop’s railing. That’s the moment Kihyun realizes that he’s being spoken to, and the guy is expecting a reply with one eyebrow raised in half confusion, half amusement. He gathers up the pieces of his courage to half-ass a response.

“Oh...I was just, I was just leaving anyway. Just wanted some fresh air.” He practically forces out the words before turning to make his way to the exit. It seems like the guy has other plans though, because -very intimidatingly- he reaches out with a muscular arm to block his path. “Woah, no need to be afraid. You don’t need to worry about me hurting you,” he chuckles out. Kihyun’s eyes widen at the audacity of the stranger before him but he lets down his guard anyway. As tough as this guy looked, his smile spoke volumes about the warmth deep down inside, and it made Kihyun want to trust him, so he did.

The man, sensing that Kihyun was losing interest in this conversation, gently placed a hand around his wrist and slowly led him over to the railing once again. “Look,” he breathed, “how could you be sad looking at something so beautiful? Makes you feel at peace, doesn’t it?” And Kihyun does feel more relaxed. The air up here is thin and warm, giving his lungs a break from the stress. “It’s gorgeous,” he replies, and for once he really means it. Kihyun never really found anything that could interest him nowadays, but the man managed to show him beauty hidden in something so simple like everyday life. Only certain people could have a talent like that.

A few moments pass before the man has decided he should properly introduce himself to the other. He turns his neck to glance at Kihyun, eyes trained on the way his hair moved slightly with the wind, brushing his high cheekbones that were dusted with a pretty pink blush. “My name is Hoseok, sorry for bumping into you the other day, I had some stuff on my mind and I wasn’t really paying attention,” he admits. “I hope you didn’t scrape your palms too bad.” The stranger now known to be Hoseok pouts, thinking back on how stupid he had been.

Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind at all, the ghost of a smile wavering on his face as he shakes his head. “It’s okay, me too.” He doesn’t share more than that, doesn’t feel the need to, as he barely knows anything about the other. The city sounds seem to fade out slowly as they both become captivated by each other’s presence. “I’m guessing you were out here to clear your head then, like me?” Hoseok questions, and Kihyun has no idea how to answer. A million replies race through his head, but all he knows is that he hasn’t even admitted to himself that dancing was his escape yet, he pretends it doesn’t actually happen after it’s over, so he sure as hell isn’t going to tell Hoseok that. He decides that a bit of sass might throw the other off his trail.

Kihyun giggles a little at Hoseok’s logic. “How do you clear your head inhaling so much smoke?” He inquires, genuinely curious. Hoseok’s lips curve back to reveal a set of perfect, white teeth, a perfect smile for a perfect man. “It’s not the smoke that clears my head, it’s the action. This may sound stupid to someone who doesn’t know where I’m coming from, but rebellion feels good, doesn’t it? It frees me up on the inside, just knowing I’m doing something that some people wouldn’t approve of.” The answer is so serious, so full of thought that it honestly takes Kihyun aback. It makes perfect sense to him, even if he doesn’t feel the same temptations himself. He must take too long to answer though, because Hoseok is shyly looking to the right, away from him. “Sorry, that’s pretty heavy for someone you just met. Nightfall sure can do weird things to people, can’t it?” He jokes, smile almost blinding to Kihyun’s eyes. The smile is so great, so attractive, that it becomes contagious. Kihyun smiles for what he thinks must be the first time in 10 years or so.

After a few more minutes spent basking in the afterglow of the midnight sky, Kihyun decides to take his leave. He bids Hoseok goodnight, thanks him for helping Kihyun to unwind and exchanges a promise to see him around sometime. He doesn’t think much of the promise, not really expecting to meet the other ever again, which is why he immediately regrets not exchanging numbers as well the second he gets back to his room. He had gone up to the roof to organize his thoughts, but ended up leaving with even more than he started with. He doesn’t know why, but he decides he likes it.

It’s on that night in June that Kihyun’s limits are tested, a barrier constructed long ago beginning to crumble at the base. He tries to pretend he is uneffected, but he knows the truth, he knows that the conversation underneath the night’s sky held some sort of importance.

It’s on that night in June that Kihyun decides the city is a beautiful place.

\---

When Kihyun wakes the next day it’s not technically morning. Streams of broken sunlight don’t filter through the dusty blinds, the room encased in inky black. Although it seems as if he is the only one awake, he knows that’s untrue. The soft sounds of the world beyond his window drift through the air like a quiet whisper, a humming lullaby that almost persuades him to fall back into a deep slumber. Almost, anyway.

He rolls over to the other side of his bed, groaning from the effort, to find the clock reading 5 AM. Perfect.  
Kihyun fixes himself a cup of the hotel’s cheap coffee while he goes through a quick version of his usual morning routine. He takes a quick shower and washes his face but refrains from brushing his teeth until he has his coffee. It proves to be in vain, though, because the beverage tastes of stale bitterness and he decides it’s better off down the drain. All of these actions he performs in record breaking sixteen minutes, not that he meant to count. It’s a force of habit to be a perfectionist and as much as he tries to push it away, Kihyun thinks that little piece of his father will always be there.

Kihyun doesn’t let those thoughts intrude on his morning, at least not this morning. Today he has an entire day to spend as free as he could ever dream of and he plans to drink up every minute he has, it’s his time to be himself and that is so rare that he knows he needs it now more than ever. He forces himself to take a deep breath and before he can even exhale, he’s out the door.

The hallways at this hour are soundless, hundreds of guests sleeping beyond the tattered doors. But that’s an assumption that he probably should not make. Who knows, maybe they’re not all asleep. Some are probably lying awake, staring lovingly up from under their eyelashes at the person who holds their heart in their hands. Others are already starting their day, glancing at the jars of money that are not quite full enough to earn them a ticket out of here, before heading off to a job they despise. Some are all alone with only the comfort of the rising sun to keep them grounded here. All in all, they are different people with different stories, different goals and everything. That’s another thing Kihyun likes about these places, they’re all just trying to make it through the day, something he can finally relate to.

After treading softly down the halls with a pair of worn sneakers in his hands, he arrives at the elevator. Nobody else can be seen around at this hour and he’s thankful for that, still not entirely sure what he’s doing is legal. He catches himself wondering if he would rather it be a crime. It makes him think about what Hoseok had said the other night, what was it? The liberating feel of rebellion? Yeah, he can understand it. The giddiness and thrill of it all sends a shiver down his spine and puts a bounce in his step, eager to get onto the rooftop.

\---

The city has never looked so bewitching.

Kihyun’s breath is taken away before he even inhales it. Last night the world had seemed to buzz with life, a whimsical land full of adventure and a hint of the unknown. Today, as he leans against the black-coated railing, it all seems so distant. The darkness is showing signs of drowsiness, about to fall asleep and let the light take over. Clouds of purple twilight are feathery and magical as they twist their way around the heads of the taller buildings in the area, creating a scene straight out of a fairy tale. He lets out a dreamy sigh, the condensation creating a cloud that sparkles with life. His breath is whisked away by a breeze of dawn air and travels somewhere far off into the city.

He is reluctant to let go of the railing, to part from this masterpiece of a scene, but he knows his time up here is limited. As interesting as their meeting was yesterday, Kihyun needs this time to himself. He knows that if he doesn’t get these times where he bleeds out all his sadness, he’ll build up until it bursts. He wouldn’t be able to last. And with that, he lets go of the railing, confidently striding toward the centre of the roof.

Kihyun stretches his muscles for a good ten minutes, letting out all the tension and discarding his false persona. The man that stands in the centre of the roof isn’t just anybody, it’s Kihyun. This is the only time he can confidently say he is one hundred percent himself.

A breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Ten seconds of standing still, listening to his own heart beat to remind himself he is alive, and he’s off.

He starts his routine with a slight pirouette before taking off in a series of carefully executed steps, an adagio following his feet as he seems to glide across the rooftop. He picks up his feet with pointed toes, arms spread like a dove’s wings as he performs a perfect rond de jambe en l’air. Upon landing, he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in, and feels himself let go entirely.

Kihyun picks up the dance with an allegro of jumps, feet twisting this way and that in between before ending the set with a delicate arabesque, which he quickly falls back from and into an arriere. The experience of the dance shows through the flexible movement of his bones, limbs under his complete control, and while he changes the speed.  
What started out as simple has now become more heated and complicated, a series of steps only Kihyun could do, himself being the choreographer. He twirls with the grace of a thousand birds and lights up the entire world, drawing the sun from it’s nightly slumber.

He is just about to execute another jump in the air when the sun finally cracks through the sliver of clouds lining the horizon, a fountain of gold light washing over his features, painting him in it’s glow. The world falls still as he spins slowly through the air, and the man watching him swears he sees wings unfurl from the dancer’s back. A beautiful sunset, a bustling city, and a dancer who was unaware of the talent he held. It truly was a sight to behold.

Kihyun lands without a sound, stockinged feet brushing against the cool ground. He still doesn’t see Hoseok standing by the door, and neglects to do so until the end of his routine. When he finally lands his last move, an arabesque with a twist, he falls less than elegantly to the ground to grasp for his water bottle. His breaths come in heavy pants which alerts him that he has done a good job.

There is little light to rely on, and he’s at a bit of a distance; but Hoseok would swear he could see the broken remnants of what might have once been a smile.


	2. Cherry Blossoms

Kihyun is panting, throwing his head back to get a feel for the cool air on his skin. The sweat that clings to him is already drying on his body. He loves the feeling of the wind, likes the way it whistles past his ear and fills his lungs with much needed air. Even if it’s only for a short second, Kihyun feels the beat of the delicate wings against his back and smiles. It’s a tad broken, rough around the edges and more the face of someone who can’t remember how it’s done, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

He still hasn’t noticed that he picked up an audience, so Hoseok allows himself to take the time to study Kihyun further. There is something radiating off of the other that was not previously present, he’s sure of it. The man he spoke with in this exact spot last night seemed...empty. He didn’t smile, rarely broke character, like an actor playing a role. But this man? This man was something else entirely. The dancer before him was ignited by a spark that started from the tips of toes and travelled all the way up through him, rising up along with his body in the sky. There was fire, love, passion, and it almost created the effect that he was soaring. The wings he had seen were not those of a bird, however, but much more unique. Hoseok couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It’s at this time that Kihyun swivels in his direction. The other stops, petrified, with a look of almost mortification. The air is thick and tense, the pause growing in length with each passing second. Kihyun’s heart beats at the pace of a racehorse, although the moment seems slow and lethargic. Questions hang in the air, both too afraid to voice them aloud.  
“You...” Kihyun starts, although he doesn’t know what he was going to say. He falls silent once again, shocked. Hoseok sees his discomfort and tries to redeem himself. “I’m sorry, I only came in at the end anyways, when you were jumping? I didn’t see it all, if that helps.” He shifts from one foot to another, feeling rude for interrupting his private time up here. He isn’t sure what to say, but it seems as if his lips have plans made already, blueprints brushing against the back of his teeth, because he has no restraint from what he is about to say. He licks his lips, bites them in his nervousness. “You looked beautiful, though.”

Kihyun remembers this moment for the rest of his life. The air is cold, but not too icy, just perfect for a daybreak wind. It rustles against his loose t shirt and reminds him that this is indeed not a dream. Pinks and oranges decorate the sky above while the sun marks the day that Kihyun was complimented for something other than his grades or performance at work. It’s a shock, almost too much for him to handle.

But he looks across the roof at a man in his mid-twenties. The distance is not too large, a barrier between them beginning to tear. The man offers a timid smile, and it sends a warmth spreading through the bones of the dancer. The mussed up hair, soft, black hoodie and loose grey sweats are anything but fancy. But Kihyun doesn’t care, never will.  
He remembers the prick of the tears, salted hope clinging against gentle eyelashes. He remembers how he had been about to fall to his knees. He does not, however, remember being engulfed in arms that were a lot less bone-crushing than they looked. He’s a total stranger, he could be anybody. Yet Hoseok didn’t seem to mind as he wrapped him in a tight hug. The man simply saw someone in need of comfort, and he knew what he needed to do. Kihyun was baffled at the kindness.

“Is this the first time you’ve been told something like that?” Hoseok asks, a whisper against his ear. Kihyun nods, a tear escaping his eye for the first time. Hoseok wipes at it with a careful swipe of his thumb.

“It’s okay, I haven’t heard it either.”

\---

Kihyun stares openly at the bike, the night sky beginning to make an appearance above his head.

“I’m not sure...” he fidgets, nervous. In truth, he’s always wondered what it would be like to ride a motorcycle, but he’s sure his mother would have a heart attack at the thought. Would they know about this though? Probably not, but he would feel guilty. Hoseok smirks, a sexy smirk that actually matches his inked body and bleach blond hair. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m a good driver!” He tosses a helmet in the other man’s direction. “Wear this though, safety first.” He sends a wink his way. Kihyun finds it oddly cute that a man who he has seen puffing out clouds of smoke to be so concerned with his safety, but he quickly dismisses that in favour of straddling the bike.

“Hold on tight,” murmurs Hoseok through his helmet. Kihyun’s hesitation shows through his shaky fingers, clutching at the back of Hoseok’s dark leather jacket. A laugh rumbles somewhere underneath the leather, and two gloved hands reach back to grab at his wrists. “Not like that, silly.”

His hands are encircled around the other’s waist, apprehensive and unsure. That all changes, though, the second the biker begins to revv up the engine. The motorcycle bursts to life in a symphony of rumbling roars. Kihyun is about to ask if it is too late to turn back when Hoseok kicks off of the road, sending them on their way. Immediately, Kihyun squeezes his arms around the other with fear. He thinks he hears Hoseok laugh at this, but he just clamps his eyes shut and blocks it out.

The sound of the engine drowns out his thumping heart and all he can focus on is the wind that curls around the bodies, speed a little too fast for Kihyun at first but he warms up to it soon enough. He feels his heartbeat dancing along his fingertips in fear before softening to a dull thud. Slowly and carefully, he opens his eyes.

Kihyun might wonder why he’s on the back of a motorcycle with his arms wrapped around someone he had met only a couple of days ago, might look back on this and ask himself what led him to accept the offer. But that all disappears along with the brief separation of his eyelashes.

The city is breathtaking all around him, seeming to lie at a standstill for this moment as he observes. The smell of the cool night air is refreshing to his senses, the whipping winds sending a thrill through his body. The excitement of it all causes him to become so incredibly aware of his surroundings, blinking to ensure that this is in fact not a dream. They’re going fast and usually Kihyun would be afraid, but that’s just not what he feels. He feels safe yet dangerous all at once, protected against Hoseok’s strong back whilst creating a raging force behind them as they go. Everything is so loud from the engine to the wind howling at his ears, yet it all seems to fall quiet as he stares around him, mesmerized.

Sure, the city looks absolutely amazing from the rooftop. But what better way to observe than to truly experience it, feel the shine of the lights upon his face and feel the rush of the breeze, take in the scent of midnight, taste the stars that linger here and feel the world disappear beneath his feet. It’s new, it’s exhilirating and it sets him ablaze.

There are times in a person’s life where they truly grasp and understand the concept of “free.” Whether it’s in the liberation of having nowhere to go and everywhere to go at the same time, or the blood pumping through your veins as you put your bravery to the test- push your limits. It’s always there, hiding deep down inside and waiting for the minute you choose to draw it out. Because we all need those moments if only for one day, one hour, we all hunger for that escape from reality.

And Kihyun feels as if he is starving, as if he has been deprived up until this point, and he has. He is a man who was born with wings so large they could carry him to his dreams, although he had been forbidden to use them. He’s not meant to dream, they would tell him, but the weight on his back says otherwise. The wings tell him to take what is rightfully his, freedom, flight, his dream. But he ignores it, because he has been taught to do so all his life.

For once in his entire existence on this planet Kihyun let’s the voice in. He hears it scream and shout with happiness –with the thrill of it all, and it silently thanks the man enveloped in Kihyun’s embrace. Kihyun has never felt so alive, aside from when he allows himself to dance. It’s a feeling he could get used to.

“Having fun back there?” Hoseok drawls, not taking his eyes off of the road for even a second. It’s okay, though, because Kihyun can hear the smile in his voice. That’s something he’s learned in the few hours he has talked to the man, he shows happiness with all of his being. Kihyun wonders what it’s like to be so enlightened all the time, but will come to learn that just because someone can smile, doesn’t mean they’re not hurting on the inside. “It’s stunning!” Kihyun shouts back, and he suspects it’s not loud enough to reach Hoseok’s ears. That’s perfectly alright though, as Kihyun takes the time to appreciate the scenery once more.

It’s about 20 minutes later when he is half asleep that the bike begins to slow to a stop. As exciting as the adventure was, he had also never felt so peaceful in his life, and the sleepless nights take their toll on him. He had leaned forward to drape himself across the man’s back, snuggling up to Hoseok like a moth to a flame. Hoseok was warm, soft and not what you would expect, and that’s how he finds himself slipping away under the delicate midnight sky. Hoseok’s leather jacket is his pillow, the stars his night light and the adventure his bed time story. That is, until he feels the fragile texture of a petal on his nose.

Hoseok hops off of the bike, the action surprisingly attractive to Kihyun. His arms flex with the effort and he steps out of it with legs that could crush concrete. Kihyun stops himself before his thoughts turn less than pure, reaching up to brush the petal off of his nose. Hoseok is quick to meet him in the middle, fingers brushing against each other as he carefully plucks the object off of his face and lets it flutter toward the grass.

“What do you think?” Hoseok asks him, arms gesturing at the sky and that fucking beautiful smile that has so quickly becomes Kihyun’s weakness sticking to his face like ever-lasting glue. At the question, Kihyun finally looks up and shakes the drowsiness off. He feels as awake as ever upon regarding the place the biker had brought him to.

Above them is a sky that should be pitch black but instead boasts a collection of dull pink, brown branches and light green leaves. In between the gaps of the trees he can see many vibrant stars decorating the sky, and a couple of petals fall down in spirals. The scene screams fantasy, like he’s stepped into another world.

That’s only the beginning of it, though. In front of him is an unexpected drop, a cliff that is not too high from the sea that sparkles beneath them. The moonlight shimmers across the surface and thousands of cherry blossom petals begin their dance, sending calm ripples towards the cliff. It’s quiet, the ocean a rich black as it reflects the image above. Kihyun thinks it seems that the world has been split in half, each side emulating the other like a mirror. It creates a divide between water and land, but it all seems like the same painting. He can hear the smile in Hoseok’s voice as he quips with delight, “I thought you might like it. I’m not sure what’s stressing you and I won’t push, but I know the feeling. This place calms the nerves, doesn’t it?” He smiles through the whole thing.

The smile is surprisingly reciprocated, dimples making an appearance high up on his cheekbones as he laughs. He laughs at the way he had been so quick to throw his morals away, laughs at how adorable the man in front of him is being, despite his image. He can’t help it, it’s funny.

He feels a part of his wall fall down, and warning bells go off in his head. Suddenly, he is back on the motorcycle with not a care in the world, not a sound can be heard and the alarm is silenced with the gentle lisp of Hoseok’s soothing voice. He accepts the hand offered to him to take a seat on the cliff, not even caring about time it is or where they are.  
Sometimes it’s just nice not to know, to let go and be free of any worries. So he does just that.

\---

They don’t meet again until some few days later. Kihyun meets with a coworker in a small cafe, going over some details about the job he is in town for, and the entire experience is boring. It makes him wonder what Hoseok’s reaction would be to this, he would probably laugh, lighter than it should be, shake his head and let his blonde bangs fall into his eyes. Hoseok would toss Kihyun a helmet and tell him to ditch this place, but not before warning him about safety. Hoseok had emphasized the use of the helmet, a cute gesture Kihyun couldn’t shake from his memory.

“-in about two, maybe three weeks. Sound manageable for you?” The man across from him inquires with a doubtful face. Kihyun’s had zoned out for the most part, but he knows he has to just agree with whatever this man is saying. It’s a business tactic, his father would say, agree to anything that the people you need to like you ask. So he does, gives a curt nod of the head and reaches for his jacket.

“Sorry to run out so early, but I have an appointment to attend.” He shrugs the coat on to his shoulders and clenches his teeth. Lies, he doesn’t have an appointment, he has to see Hoseok within the hour. He can’t remember the last time he has blatantly lied in front of someone so important, but they won’t find out. Besides, he isn’t going to be in this city forever, Hoseok will fade from memory along with the smell of his motorcycle and the feeling of wind in his hair. He can afford to let loose just this one time.

The man nods, agreeing. “Of course, I’ll see you next week then. Enjoy your time in the city.”

A silent promise of the meeting is exchanged through a quick grasp of hands, the arms of their suits differentiating in colour but still a cage all the same. They’re both prisoners of their job, although one is more content with it than the other. This is why Kihyun cannot and will not fit in with them, he doesn’t like cages, he likes big spaces and open air, breathing room and freedom. He chokes back a sigh before exiting the building.

It takes him around ten minutes to reach the hotel. By this point the sun is already starting to show signs of sleep, bleeding across the sky with warm colours before mixing with the feathery clouds. He doesn’t spare them a glance, though, in favour of looking at someone far more enthralling. The beauty of the sky cannot compare to messy dyed hair and art that peeks out from his clothing as if it is struggling to break free. The image is topped off with the signature smirk,lips curling back to reveal strikingly white teeth. A leg is propped up behind him as he supports his weight on the wall outside the door, just like he had that night they met on the roof.  
The sight triggers a flood of memories, rushing back from the night a couple of days past.

\---

They’re sitting haphazardly on the small cliff side, and Kihyun would be scared of the height if not for the strong arm brushing up against his own. He feels safe, cool and collected, as if no one could hurt him here. The place Hoseok had chosen was the epitome of gentle with soft, pink petals raining down from the heavens, deep black water as if someone had spilled a pot of ink inside, and a field of grass that tickled their bare feet. It was all quite calming, not the sort of place he thought you could find in a city. “There’s so many beautiful places to see here,” Hoseok had told him, “if you know where to go, and how to appreciate the little things.” Kihyun had found the saying itself to be beautiful enough.

At the moment, both of their eyes were fixed on a petal that drifted quietly among the surface of the water below. It was silent, save for the murmuring of the cherry blossoms and the faint noise of the city beyond their backs. “Kihyun,” Hoseok spoke, and it was the first time his tone had been so devoid of happiness. “Are we friends?” He swallows, nervous about the question, and looks somewhere out into the skyline. Kihyun isn’t sure what he is looking at, or what he is trying to find. He supposes he will ask him someday when the time is right.

The question takes him aback a little, surprised at the suddenness of it all. He thinks for a moment. “If you want to be?” And he had meant for it to come out as answer yet it instead comes out in the form of a question. Nonetheless, Hoseok smiles, picks up a petal and places it in Kihyun’s lap. “Good. Because I think you need one even more than I do,” he finishes. This time, Kihyun is very taken aback. How can someone who has known him for less than a week read him so easily? Hoseok is the one covered in stories, not Kihyun. Nobody should be able to read him like a book.

Kihyun takes a while to answer, so Hoseok begins for him. “I just want to ask you what’s wrong so badly, but I don’t want to cross any boundaries.” He huffs, the action sending his bangs a-flutter. “And don’t try to tell me something isn’t wrong, because we’re friends now and I want to help you. That’s why I spoke to you, you know? I knew you were similar.” Hoseok drops his gaze to the water, unsure of his words. He meant them, though, he wants to help and Kihyun can see that. He has never met anyone as strange as this man in his entire life, so different and...intriguing. It’s a little funny to him, so he laughs. Hoseok sends him a worried look.

“Hoseok, you are the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

And that is the night a dancer pours his heart out to a man underneath the cherry blossoms, above the water, surrounded by starlight. He doesn’t regret it one bit.  
Neither does Hoseok.

\---

“Hey, sorry I’m a little late, this guy would not stop talking about the report he needs by next week and I-“ Kihyun is cut off by an object being placed to his lips, feeling a slight burn and tasting fire. He chokes on his breath at the suddenness of it all and Hoseok moves the cigarette away, watching the way the other man sputters in disgust.   
“What,” Kihyun pants, “was that for?” He wants to be pissed off, watch Hoseok laugh at his mini prank, but that doesn’t happen. Hoseok’s face is completely serious as he puts the cigarette out on the wall and tosses it in the trash can just as he has done many times before. He looks him in the eye. “Disgusting, isn’t it?” Hoseok asks him, and Kihyun is confused.

“Obviously, I don’t smoke!” Kihyun fumes. Hoseok still doesn’t pull any faces and just stares, as if assessing something with his gaze. “Good,” he states, “promise you won’t ever do it.” And Kihyun doesn’t think he is actually asking for a promise, judging from the way he enters the building immediately after. He’s unsure of what the exchange was, but he silently promises anyway. He won’t do it.

Eventually, they make their way on to the rooftop once again, sending Kihyun through a wave of nostalgia although it had only been a couple of nights since that previous one. The roof just seems to be so much more than what it is, it feels open and relaxing and it creates a space in which Kihyun can just spill out his problems, splash them onto paper like a painting of his sorrow. It’s beautiful in that sad type of way, tragic and delightful meeting in the centre.

They don’t even need conversation to understand each other, something Kihyun has noticed during his time with the other. They simply need the comfort. Hoseok knows why Kihyun needs it, but the other cannot say the same. The dancer had given his depressing story to the other in hopes of receiving one in return, yet all Hoseok could say was that he was messed up, and didn’t want to burden Kihyun with his problems. This seemed unfair to the smaller, but he let it go after Hoseok mumbled something about hearing someday. It wasn’t his business to intrude.

They lean against the railing as they let the minutes drag on, just admiring the view presented to them. Kihyun is about to bid the other goodnight until Hoseok stands up with a sigh, placing a hand on his back pocket. Kihyun is about to protest the smoking because he may not mind the other doing it, but he definitely does not want to be around it this much. He is confused, however, when Hoseok does not open the pack.

The older man just stares at the half-empty pack for a good thirty seconds and the other figures he is just thinking about whether or not to light one up at this moment. It comes as an extreme shock when Hoseok pitches the pack over the railing, and Kihyun stares down in disbelief, watching it plummet to the earth below. When he can’t see it anymore, he cranes his neck back up to look at Hoseok. “Why did you do that?” He asks, shock eminent in his voice.

Hoseok’s answer is simple yet tinged with something bitter, and Kihyun knows there is more to it than he could possibly imagine. “Smoking is for the dying, or people who want to die.” And that’s all he says, leaving Kihyun to think about the statement.

It doesn’t leave his mind all night, not even as he reclines in bed, dancing around his brain while he should be sleeping. Those who want to die.

Maybe Hoseok’s past really was too messed up for him to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone is enjoying this so far. If anyone wants to come fangirl with me or just talk, find me on instagram :D @kpoptbh_


	3. Vulnerable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if this fic sucks lmao I just like the idea a lot and I can't wait to finish. shit's gonna hit the fan eventually i promise

That day, Hoseok keeps his promise they had discussed just a few nights before, petals raining down in perfect bliss all around them. He had said his proposition was simple: a means of getting him to experience, appreciate all life has to offer and just live for once. Hoseok wants to show Kihyun that although things may seem as if they are not worth fighting for, he knows this city alone contains thousands of places filled with wonder and adventure. And he is determined to show Kihyun just that, that life is worth living.

God knows he only learned so recently.

And that’s how they end up on Hoseok’s bike once more, daylight broad and warm as it clings to their leather jackets (Kihyun had borrowed an older one of Hoseok’s that fit too large on his small frame, but smelled of sharp cologne and faded cigarettes. It’s a unique scent that he isn’t willing to part with.) and smiles wide on their faces. Everything around him seems much happier to Kihyun these past few days, he takes notice of all the colour and the noise that flows through the city streets with reckless abandon, the smiles of those admiring the summer flowers. Somehow everything is much more bright.

He’s going to miss it all when he goes.

This thought shocks him a little, saddens him in a way he wasn’t sure he could feel. He can’t remember the last time he had something or someone to miss, a reason to not uproot himself or travel for his career. It had always been nameless places and faces, journeying down unfamiliar roads and paths without caring about his surroundings. But how will he feel in about three weeks time, surrounded by a new city, unknown to him? How will Kihyun feel without the beautiful cherry blossoms, the astounding skyview from his rooftop or the midnight drives taken purely on impulse? He was sure he would long for these things.

And most importantly, what about Hoseok?

Kihyun knows he can’t stay in this city. He has people to impress, deals to make, parents to please. He has money, potential fame, comfort, all waiting for him back in the life he is taking a break from. He’s playing a dangerous game by doing so, tempting himself with a life he cannot and will not adjust to. The only place he belongs is behind his office desk with a computer to cover his face from passerbys, clock on the wall forever ticking until it comes to an abrupt stop one day. After he dies, nobody will remember him. They might remember Yoo Kihyun, successful businessman and son of a very wealthy family, and his parents will grieve for the loss of their child. But nobody will remember him, nobody will have reason to think about his dancing or the way he smiles, his eye colour or anything other than the fact that he did a good job at what? Existing?

And Hoseok will forget him, too. After he leaves, Hoseok will find another man to tour the city with, talk to about everything and nothing. Hoseok doesn’t need him- he needs Hoseok. But he can’t say it out loud.

So he doesn’t. Whatever Hoseok thinks, whatever he believes, Kihyun will allow him to keep that. If he has no idea of Kihyun’s inevitable departure, that’s okay. He won’t need to know, because Kihyun is not special and he should not stay where he does not belong.

All of these thoughts come to a stop as Hoseok pulls up to a large building, something that looks like a science centre. However, he can make a quick guess as to what it really is upon seeing the glass dome roof. He realizes he has guessed correctly after his gaze is directed toward a sign on their left.

“You brought me to a butterfly conservatory?” He asks, slightly confused. Who likes bugs anyway? How could Hoseok find beauty in flying insects? He doesn't really get it, but he'll reserve judgement for now.

“Yeah, why not? Butterflies are beautiful, don’t you think?” Hoseok smiles at him before grabbing his hand in his much larger one. It’s comfortable, a perfect fit. “Let’s go make some new friends.”

Before going in, Kihyun was nervous. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of all these winged terrors just flying around freely and even landing on you. But after being inside of the enclosure for under five minutes, he fell in love with his surroundings.

All around them were exotic, luscious plants of all shape, size and colour, vines twisting this way and that. Flowers of all sorts decorated the floor, the walls and even the ceiling above, splashes of colour ranging from the darkest of blood reds to the lightest of an innocent white. Each flower was tastefully placed to form a brightly lit path through the middle of the dome, a wooden walkway a few feet above a the clear waters below. Somewhere nearby a waterfall rushed peacefully to add to the wild ambiance. It was like something straight out of a Disney movie.

But most of all beautiful were the creatures themselves.

Butterflies surrounded them in flocks, pairs or even just on their own as they went about their lives. Each one flashed a different pattern and colour, gorgeous deisngs addorning their sizable wings. Each one was incredibly unique and had at most only one other of its kind within the building. And although the extremely exotic ones captured his eye, his favourite were the two Common Blues that fluttered close together along with them, as if they were following the pair.

“Those two seem to like us, huh?” Joked Hoseok, looking back at the insects. Kihyun stopped to turn back as well, walking over to the blue creatures and nodding to indicate he was still listening.

He was fascinated with their sapphire colour, so simple yet so eye catching to him. The wings were plain in design and shape but beautiful in iridescnece, a surface decorated with the most intricate, tiny markings along the edges. There was nothing oddly special to the two butterflies, one solid colour and no definitive marks to fawn over. Yet they spoke to him somehow.

They were apart from the rest, dancing in the warm air and fluttering about on light flaps of their delicate little wings. It seemed as if they possessed not a single care for the world or how things were set before them, choosing instead to weave their way through the air with complex movements and spins, like an underrated ballet.

The two butterflies reminded him of Hoseok and himself, not quite fitting in but finding purchase within each other. On their own, one could call it boring or even useless, nothing to run home about. But together they put on a display, a show of deft but bold flight through life. It was so beautiful to him, so heart-warming that he found himself wishing to take the two butterflies for himself. But eventually their walk through the small enclosure comes to an end and they are forced to part with the lovely creatures. Hoseok seems to beam with happiness, glad he could make Kihyun enjoy it.

Before he leaves, one of the Common Blues from before comes to rest on his wrist. He takes it up to eye level to inspect its charming form, watching the way her wings slowly move inward before spreading back out again. He smiles down at the insect one last time before raising his hand in the air to watch her fly away, back up high into the air above where she is illuminated by the summer sunlight. She’s caged, there’s no doubt about that, but she’s free.

Kihyun wants to be like that, too.

They exit the building in high spirits. Hoseok is lightly swinging their joined hands together, looking over at Kihyun and flashing him a one-of-a-kind smile. His hair bounces a little with each step he takes and frames his face, making him look positively etheral to the other.

 “So, how did you like it?” Hoseok wonders, once again staring down at their joined hands. He’s confused for a short moment as Kihyun brings them to a stop, squeezing Hoseok’s hand once and looking directly into his eyes. Hoseok’s words get stuck in his throat upon seeing such an enthralling gaze directed towards him, swallowing in anticipation.

Hoseok has this sudden thought, and he wonders how Kihyun doesn’t catch it every time he walks past a mirror. He can see the deep set stars burn somewhere within the cold, brown eyes, and thinks of what it would be like to bring them up to the surface, watch them shine the way they were made to. He can almost connect the other to a fallen star, purpose lost and fire extinguished. He briefly thinks that maybe all Kihyun needs is a sky, a place for him to burn brighter than the city lights he admires from the rooftop, a sky for him to decorate with his beauty. Hoseok is determined to become that sky.

 But all these thoughts are sent reeling as soft lips come into contact with his cheek, just centimetres away from his own mouth. It’s short, only lasting for less than a second before the other is pulling away, but Hoseok can feel the touch linger on his bare skin. He stands there, shocked, before Kihyun is muttering a heartfelt “thank you.”

 He doesn’t move again until Kihyun connects their hands once more to drag him towards the bike. He can see the light blush creeping up the other’s neck and dusting his cheeks, and he smiles. Smiles because Kihyun is beautiful, and Kihyun kissed him. He smiles because Kihyun is in his life, which makes life worth living.

 In truth, someone like him does not deserve Kihyun, but he clings on to what he is given because he is selfish. He wants to be the only one to hold Kihyun, to wrap him in his arms and show him what it’s like to be loved, not that he would know. He wants to capture Kihyun’s lips for himself, to be the only cause of Kihyun’s rare smiles and lock him away in his heart forever. But he won’t, because Kihyun wants to be free, was meant to be free.

And Hoseok loves him, so he does not chain him to one spot, and rather watches him prance around in his happiness.

The ride back to their hotel is slow, midday light setting a gentle mood as they are in no rush to go anywhere. Hoseok had promised to make every day memorable for Kihyun, to show the other what it was like to live, to do things and actually enjoy them. So they take it all in stride, seeing where the day takes them.

For today, it takes them to their hotel, because Hoseok had said he had something special prepared for tomorrow and didn’t want to start it today. They had some time to kill since they went to the conservatory earlier in the morning, so they ended up going up to the older’s room for coffee, intending to just sit and talk, some meaningless chatter about meaningless things. But it was obvious Kihyun had other plans.

From the moment they got in the door, he was asking questions.

Kihyun did, however, take a minute to observe the room. He caught sight of a pile of what seemed like pads of paper, resting atop the hotel desk that was covered in light smudges of charcoal. Papers lay scattered across the desk as well or rest crumpled at its feet, joined by a pencil here or there.

It was clear that the desk was the focus point: the part of the room in which Hoseok really _lived._ The chair was worn and the lamp’s light was still on, and the older was quick to shut it off, then beckoned for Kihyun to come in.

Kihyun walked over to the crouched desk, picking up a piece of paper with nimble fingers. His eyes widened at the subject being potrayed, gaze never leaving the smooth lines of charcoal that covered the paper in his hand.

On the sketch paper was a drawing, most likely crafted by Hoseok himself. The art depicted a gorgeous, red rose held carefully in the mouth of a fox, petals bursting out from its centre and some peeling off to fall down below. The leaves were sharp and curled as they finished off what was quite clearly the focus of said drawing, along with the fox’s striking blue eyes. Kihyun had never seen something so unique, something so...astounding.

“I can’t believe you drew this.” Kihyun states, voice soft and smooth like a whisper. He was truly in awe at was before him.

“Hm? Oh, yeah” Is the only reply he gets from Hoseok, who had looked over Kihyun’s shoulder to see what he was talking about. “I like to draw.” He shrugs, as if this was no masterpiece.

“You like it or you _love_ it?” Inquires the shorter, disbelief written all over his face. At this, Hoseok cracks a smile, stretching his muscular arms above his head. “Fine, you got me. I love it.”

Kihyun looks around the room again, carefully placing the picture down in its original place.

His sight is immediately drawn to an object on the bed, and as he came closer he recognized it as a small, leather-bound notebook. Despite a thin gash that ran from one corner of the book to another, shallow and plain, it seemed to be in almost new condition.

Hoseok saw what Kihyun was looking at over his shoulder and rushed over, snatching the book off of the bed and haphazardly shutting it in a drawer with a bang. Kihyun wasn’t going to let it go that easily, though. Trust him to always pry.

“What was that?” He asked, sceptical. Hoseok was an enigma of mysteries.

It takes a moment for the answer to come, but when it does, it’s cold. “Nothing. Don’t ask.” He didn’t even look at Kihyun to reply, choosing instead to warm up his coffee maker. It was clear this discussion was over before it had even started.

“How do you take your coffee?”

 

Four hours later, when darkness begins to hint at its appearance and life is at its peak outside Hoseok’s window, they’re motionless. They’re silent and loud all at once, actively speaking between hushed voices smoothed over by the dusk hours that hang over their heads. It’s comfortable, lying in a bed that isn’t his own. Here he feels oddly safe, trapped between walls covered in ink splatters and lost in sheets ruined by charcoal smudges.  All he can hear are Hoseok’s soft whispers, all he can see are the hands that lovingly turn each page of the sketchbook in his own. All he can smell is Hoseok, all around him and smothering him in a warm embrace. All he feels is the dying sunlight that creeps its way into the bedroom with nimble feet, warming up his face as it fades, forgotten by all who choose to embrace the night. All he tastes is the bitter coffee that Hoseok had made them, and for once, it isn’t half bad.

They’re sitting down in the artist’s bed, a soft, warm blanket that definitely did not belong to the hotel wrapped snug around Kihyun’s shoulders. Hoseok was showing him his artwork, explaining each one and their meaning as he went along, turning the pages with care. Kihyun could hear the passion in his voice, could see the way his eyes seemed to catch fire with love for his work, so proudly displaying each piece. If only the whole world could see this side of him as well.

Kihyun was, for lack of a better word, in absolute _awe._ Someone like Hoseok could take the most plain of objects, of animals, of scenery, and turn it into something worth paying money for. He had drawings of roaring tigers, howling wolves, herds of gorgeous horses with their manes flowing into streamers of flames. He had night skies done in watercolour, galaxies and cities and meadows. He had birds with eyes of pure glass, dragons with wings bigger than the creatures themselves. He had roses, daisies, any flower he could find. Hoseok could take one look at something, think _hey, that has potential,_ and turn it into a masterpiece.

“You could totally turn this into a job, if you wanted,” Kihyun suggested, breaking the silence for just this moment. He shifted his weight so that he could shut the book and ever so gently place it on the bed in front of him. He turned around to watch the way the blinds casted dancing shadows on to the carpet beneath them, thinking about everything and nothing.

There’s hesitation, a minute of silence where all he hears is Hoseok’s breathing, as if he can’t quite decide how to respond. But when he does, Kihyun can hear the sadness in his voice, the fear, even, like he isn’t sure this is something he wants to share. He does anyways.

“I really want to, more than anything in the world, Ki,” he sighs, exasperated and defeated. “I just...don’t have the money for it.” Hoseok hugs his knees, turning away to hide the tears that threaten to build up in his eyes. This isn’t a conversation he was ready to have for a very long time, although he knows he needs it. Kihyun deserves to hear this much at least.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers, barely audible to Kihyun’s ears, and the dancer thinks he looks so vulnerable. This is the first time Hoseok has looked anything other than strong, anything other than tough. This wasn’t the Hoseok he knew now, this was the Hoseok before something had changed him, and that was obvious. The man he knew now wouldn’t let his voice crack, wouldn’t show any suffering if only to make the shorter happy. Hoseok was a brick wall, fortified and thick, a barrier constructed quite similar to Kihyun’s. And Kihyun? He knows it better than anyone; nobody puts up walls without a reason.

As he looks at Hoseok’s form that seems to shrink on himself, he can’t bear to refuse. Although he knows that whatever he hears will be hard, will hurt him and Hoseok too, he can’t deny he knows he has to do this. He looks at Hoseok right now, in this moment, and sees the Kihyun he’s buried so far down inside. He sees the coward, the frightened and alone, the defenseless and the weak. He can’t help but wonder what things happened to the boy in front of him to cause such pain, such grief in his eyes. He can almost feel the memories bleed, can nearly see the way Hoseok reopens old wounds, a fresh twinge of pain being the only answer to the tear that spills down his cheekbone. But that’s okay, because sometimes we need to revisit these scars, if only to heal them for good.

So Kihyun agrees, nods and carefully takes one big hand in his smaller one. He traces a pattern along the palm with his thumb, dancing with his fingers and creating a soothing rhythm for the other to relax. He inhales, exhales, and looks up into eyes he feels a danger in becoming accustomed to.

“You can tell me _anything.”_ He whispers, and he means that, means it with all his heart. Because he knows it’s what he’s always wanted to hear himself.

The only thing he can think of, the only thing he can wonder about, is who put Hoseok in such a position.

Hoseok, a man who loved everyone and everything around him, cursed to hate himself and smile through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is so short ugh,,, writer's block :(


	4. Glass Jar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to state that any mention of homophobia in this chapter does not reflect my views (obviously lmao I've written gay smut come on) and is purely for the sake of plot. thank you :)

Kihyun held Hoseok’s hand in a gentle clutch, caressing the smooth skin and watching, waiting for the older man to speak. Hoseok couldn’t meet his eyes for at least another thirty seconds, all of which he spent trying to hold in the tears. It didn’t work.

When he finally looks up, it’s different, no trace of a smile on his face and eyes glossed over like sharp glass. Their gazes meet and Kihyun can see the hesitance, as if Hoseok has wanted to say this for a long time but could never find the courage to do so. Kihyun sees everything in those eyes, like the protective layer had been ripped away to expose the vulnerable form underneath. He sees pain and suffering, a flicker of iron bars that keep Hoseok’s emotions caged inside. It’s heartbreaking.

After tightening his hand around the one in his hold, Hoseok finally speaks.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” he sobs, a heave of air forcing itself out of his lungs. Fresh tears build up at the corners of his eyes, gathering there before gently falling onto the bedsheets below. Before Kihyun can interrupt, he continues.

“This hotel, I mean.” Hoseok sniffles. “I should be at home right now, or at college, studying art and everything I was supposed to do.” Another sniffle. Kihyun watches as the last light of the day disappears, the darkness surrounding the older man’s frame. If the dancer thought he looked sad before, this was a whole other level. He could barely make out the tremble of Hoseok’s shoulders with the lighting, but is able to watch as he shakes his head in regret. “I should be with my _family._ ”

A moment of silence passes as Kihyun processes what’s been said. He blinks. “What...happened to your family?” He whispers, afraid to say the wrong words, to trigger Hoseok into something fatal.

The artist blinks back droplets of crystalline sadness, preventing Kihyun from watching how his skin shines with fresh tears after every shudder that courses through his body. It’s humiliating, having someone he had met not even a month ago get to see him in such a state, but yet it is somehow comforting as well. This isn’t some stranger he picked up at the club, it’s not just a wanderer passing by to visit.

This is Kihyun, a dancer, a dreamer, his beautiful butterfly whose wings stand out from the rest.

This is Kihyun. The man he has, without a doubt, fallen in love with.

Hoseok watches the way the gentle breeze from the window pulls at his soft strands of hair and marvels at the compassion hidden in his sparkling eyes, paying careful attention to the other’s long, dark eyelashes that frame his elegant face. He feels the soft material of the sweater that flops over Kihyun’s fingertips and tastes the words on his tongue, etching themselves into his mouth and burning him into silence. Yet, because this is Kihyun he is talking to, he finds a way to speak.

“They just...didn’t want me, I guess,” he finally whispers. The soft speech reaches Kihyun’s ears like silk, but is much rougher on his heart. He can sense Hoseok is about to break down once more so he gives an encouraging squeeze to his hand, looking deep into his eyes and singalling for him to continue. Hoseok wipes at his eyes with his free hand before beginnng the story that started with a boy and ended with a man.

“I’ve always wanted to be an artist. Ever since I was little I saw nothing but beauty in everything, whether it was nature, animals, buildings or people. I loved to draw.” He pauses, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “And that was always okay. My parents always told me I had a God-given talent, praising me and all that. It was great to have that support.” Hoseok smiles, the same kind of smile Kihyun would pull in front of his parents. Broken and fake, as if he were trying to convince himself rather than others.

“But then, the summer after high school when I had just been accepted to the university of my choice, I met this guy. He was tall, cute, kind of shy but really polite. I thought he would be the model boyfriend for my parents to meet.” Another pause. “His name was Hyungwon.”

“After we had been dating for about two months, I decide it’s finally time for him to meet my parents. I wasn’t worried about it all because my parents were always supportive of me, you know? I always saw them as good people.” His voice cracks a little towards the end and Kihyun finally embraces him in a warm, loving hug. Hoseok thinks he smells slightly like lavender, not an overpowering scent but one that just barely lingers there, with a hint of a fresh earthy smell much like rain drops. He wraps his arms tight around the small frame and buries his nose in the other’s shoulder before continuing.

“I could already tell something was wrong while he was over, my parents didn’t smile or compliment him like their normal selves. It was...odd. So I sent him home before I asked them about it. And this is where everything gets, well, dark.”

Hoseok remains silent for the better half of a minute, closing and opening his mouth like his words became tangled upon his tongue. When it doesn’t look like the older is going to speak, Kihyun asks the inevitable.

“Hoseok, what did they do to you?” Kihyun asks softly, worry evident in his tone. He’s afraid of the answer, even if he already knows it won’t be a good one. And after he hears it, he will wish he hadn’t asked.

The artist chooses this moment to turn his head, to make eye contact with the man in front of him.

“It, it _hurt._ ” And Hoseok immediately breaks down, sobs racking his entire frame and cries escaping his mouth.

Hoseok grabs on to Kihyun, nuzzling his nose in his neck and staining his sweater with his tears. His sobbing is loud, gasps of pain every few seconds that indicate just how hard he is crying. It’s one of the saddest things the dancer has ever seen. “It stung so _much_ , Kihyun,” he cries, “A-And I, just had to stand there in shock.” Another wave of sobs shakes him, leaving his body to convulse along with his breathing. Kihyun feels for him, but he doesn’t understand what he is trying to say.

“What hurt, Hoseok? Who hurt you?” _Who broke you?_ Kihyun thinks. He might already suspect the answer, but that doesn’t lessen the blow.

“M-My dad,” Hoseok chokes out, slowly calming himself down as Kihyun helps him to breathe deep. After his speech is a little more understandable, he lets loose with the story. “That day, after Hyungwon left, he hit me.” Kihyun feels his heart break a little at the words that leave his mouth. “I didn’t understand it, couldn’t comprehend how my father could outright slap me across the face. After about a week, I understood.

“Both my parents expressed their disgust for my sexuality, calling me things like a heathen and a disappointment. It crushed me, having the people I loved most tear me down like that...and it only got worse. The day after, my father ripped up every single one of the drawings I had taped to my walls. Thank God my sketchbook and folder were hidden, or he would have gotten to those too. Seeing him rip up my sketches right in front of my face like that? It was traumatic, and I _still_ see it in my nightmares.”

Hoseok fists his hands in the bedsheets behind him, trying desperately to cover himself. He isn’t sure if it’s because he’s cold or if he feels vulnerable, maybe it’s both. But in the end it doesn’t really matter because Kihyun is standing up, pushing Hoseok back on to the bed with gentle hands and smoothing his hair up off of his forehead. The dancer pulls the blanket up and over the other’s body before wrapping it tight, hoping to warm him up and make him more comfortable. Kihyun leans down and wraps his arms around Hoseok’s neck, ghosting his lips over the skin there. “It’s okay, go on,” he assures.

Hoseok takes a deep breath and threads his fingers in the other’s silky hair before speaking again.

“The one thing I’m thankful for is that was the only time he ever hit me, in the moment I rememember telling myself others have to deal with much worse.” Kihyun can hear the fatigue setting in, all the painful memories returning to Hoseok’s mind. He tightens his hold on the other to show his support. He speaks again, “But then things took an even shittier turn. They refused to pay for my tuition for my art school, and as if that wasn’t bad enough-“ The tears start coming again, slow and steady. Kihyun notices this and is quick to wipe them away with the sleeves that fall past his fingertips, the soft fabric soothing the man underneath him. After he’s done, Kihyun cradles his face in his hands and rubs small circles into his jaw with the pads of his thumbs. He doesn’t give verbal encouragement this time, but it’s enough to get Hoseok to finish.

“They refused me, too.” Hoseok can’t bring himself to look the other in the eyes as he says this. He’s embarassed, ashamed even. “They kicked me out of the house at 18 and I haven’t seen them since.” He finishes his last sentence in a whisper, fading out into darkness as more tears prick at his eyes.

The tears, the story, it’s all too much for Kihyun to bear. He has never seen Hoseok to be anything but a protector, an angel that was sent specifically for the dancer himself. Hoseok always appeared strong, always talked and walked like he could face any challenge. But this man? The man in front of him wasn’t even a man. This was a _boy_ , an eighteen year old deprived of the chance to grow up like everyone else. He didn’t have a family, didn’t have support or money or, he’s willing to bet, even a home at one point. While everyone else was out being taught how to pursue their dreams, this man fought for it on his own. He worked late hours and weekends just to pay the bills, practiced drawing every chance he got to the point where his hands were always covered in paint or charcoal that resembled the most beautiful battle scars. And despite all the struggles he faced, all the thoughts that corrupted his mind on the inside, he still managed to smile on the outside, bright as the sun like he had that day they met on the sidewalk with cherry blossom petals framing them in an everlasting painting.

Kihyun looks back towards the desk, taking note of the half-empty jar that rests upon its suface, a frown adorning his features for not noticing it when he first walked in. For not noticing any of Hoseok’s suffering since day one.

So he makes a promise to himself, in that small hotel room on that hot summer night. It’s a promise to him and Hoseok both individually and as a pair.

Kihyun retracts from his embrace, slowly as to not worry Hoseok that he is leaving. He fixes his legs so that his knees are resting on either side of Hoseok, half-straddling him as he once again cradles his face in his hands, allowing his fingertips to dance along the sides of his face. He stares into Hoseok’s eyes, afraid of what he will find there. Within the sadness that plagues them, he finds a tiny spark of something like hope fighting for light in the darkness. He knows, that if given the chance, that hope will grow into something much larger and much more beautiful.

So, he leans in and desperately tries to rekindle the spark.

The artist lets out a muffled sound of surprise, but aside from that he meets no resistance.

Hoseok’s lips are soft against his as he presses them together, sweet and easy with little movement. It’s perfect, a light and feathery touch that makes his body tingle not with arousal but with pure and innocent affection. He places warm hands on the back of Hoseok’s neck and pulls him closer, pouring all his feelings and, dare he say it, _love_ into this one action. Hoseok returns the kiss with just as much enthusiasm, resting his hands on the small of Kihyun’s back.

After he pulls away, he can still feel his lips linger on his own, and raises a finger to touch at them gently, remembering what occured not three seconds ago and already knowing it will someday be a beautiful memory for them.

Kihyun tenderly rests his forehead against Hoseok’s, once again wrapping his arms loosely around the older man’s neck. He whispers in a quiet tone so as not to startle the other, and makes a promise he thought would never leave his lips for anyone.

“ _I’ll_ be your family.”

And that is how they kiss for the first time, surrounded by darkness in a bed that is too small, with low-quality sheets and nobody but the night sky as their witness.

 

* * *

 

 

What is beauty, or rather, where can one find it?

There are people in this world who will discover the concept of beauty hidden in trivial objects they find aesthetically pleasing. Many will label things that shine, things that sparkle or things that light up much like Christmas lights to be beautiful, having their breath stolen at the shadows being cast or the way light reflects off of a surface. Others may find beauty as they inhale the fresh air, in the way their fingertips drag along the top of the water or how the earth feels beneath their bare feet, flowers blooming in all shapes and colours everywhere they can see.

Others are content to search for beauty within themselves, or within others. Some may choose to find it in even the most simple of happenings, in a good memory they hope will last them a lifetime.

Kihyun finds his beauty in Hoseok, and everything about him.

Kihyun finds beauty in the things the artist shows him, in the places they visit together hand in hand. He finds beauty in their memories, in the kisses they share and the way Hoseok smiles. Everything he sees in the city is beautiful, beautiful, _beautiful._

And Hoseok is quick to notice this. He notes the look of absolute adoration and awe that overtakes the dancer’s face that next night, the day he takes Kihyun to watch the fireworks show in the park. It’s wonderful, bursts of colour that bleed every which way across the sky, showering the world with their lumescent sparks. Some are a shimmering gold, others are multicoloured like a rainbow, gleaming as they cast reflections across the water’s inky surface.

 And what a shame it was that Hoseok missed the _entire_ show.

Not once in his life has he ever looked away from such a shocking display of colour, always taking delight in the shows and paying them his full attention. Nothing, to him, has ever been as beautiful as a firework.

Yet here he is, underneath the blazing night’s sky, eyes focused on something much more breathtaking.

Hoseok watches the colours splash themselves across the dancer’s face, lighting up his eyes like fire to a match, bright as the smile that paints his face.  All the flashes of light that flit across his cheeks resemble delicate butterfly wings, Hoseok thinks, almost as if they were still in the conservatory, watching all the creatures fly around in a sort of ballet. Each flash is different in hue, bathing Kihyun’s face in a plume of intense shades.

Hoseok sighs in appreciation upon hearing Kihyun’s tiny gasps of surprise, watching the way his face lights up and feeling the way their hands intertwine on the soft grass beneath them. In this moment, he thinks he has chosen the most perfect man to give his heart to.

The fireworks show ends, sending the crowd into bursting cheers as the sky returns to its twilight state once more. Kihyun takes the oppurtunity to latch himself on to Hoseok, somewhere between his happy fits of laughter, and snuggles into his side. He breathes, inhales the scent of the artist and promises to never forget it as long as he lives.

“Thank you so much,” Kihyun finally says, the smile he put on at the beginning still clinging to his visage, eyes nearly disappearing as he scrunches them up in happiness. But, shortly after this, his face drops only slightly. He attempts to hide his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, not used to smiling around other people in so long. Not used to being _happy._

“Hey.” Hoseok says, teasing light in his tone of voice. He pries the smaller’s hands away from his face and holds them in his own, bringing them up to his lips to peck the soft skin of his wrists. “Why are you hiding from me?” This time, his tone is a little more sad.

Kihyun doesn’t know how he would answer the question, so instead he stands up, bringing the older man with him. Before he can make a move to leave, however, Hoseok immediately stops him with a tug on the hem of his sweater.

“Wait, Ki, I have something for you.” Kihyun blinks, a little shocked at the sudden gesture, and gives him a questioning look. Hoseok takes his grip off of the dancer’s hands to fumble in his leather jacket on the grass, drawing out a small box from the pocket. It’s not too large, but not exactly small either. The box is a beautiful baby blue, exaggerated by a satin black ribbon that rests on top. The artist holds it out in unsure hands, a blush creeping over his face as he hands the gift over.

“It’s nothing big, I-I just thought you’d like it. Since you always seem to enjoy looking at the stuff we see and, I thought maybe you’d like to remember everything,” he mumbles, kicking at the dirt with his hands in his jeans. Now that he has had time to think about it, maybe Kihyun will hate the gift. Maybe he already has one just like it at home. Maybe-

Hoseok hears Kihyun gasp in shock, and looks up to see the gift has been unwrapped to expose its contents. Inside is a high quality camera, complete with a neckstrap and everything. It’s held in place by a velvet lining, a note inside that Kiyhun has yet to read as he inspects the camera.

The dancer looks up, meeting his teary eyes with Hoseok’s own filled with love. Immediately he places small hands on the back of his neck, bringing the artist down into a passionate but soft kiss.

Hoseok feels something much stronger than the fireworks explode inside of his body, spreading heat to every corner and filling him with, if possible, even more adoration for the short male in his arms. It’s quick, decent for a public setting, and it leaves him wanting more as Kihyun pulls away, only to bury his nose in the taller’s neck.

“You have no idea how much I love this. Really, thank you...” And Hoseok thinks he sounds like he may be keeping tears at bay. A smile decorated his face at the thought of making Kihyun so happy, of bringing him any kind of joy. At any expense, it’s worth it.

 

 

And that’s what he tells himself, the moment he steps inside his door that night; it’s worth it. He inspects the glass jar on the desk, significantly emptier as the moonlight reflects on its clear surface.

Kihyun is worth it.

* * *

 

 

And when Kihyun gets home, he slumps against the door frame, hugging the box to his chest and letting the (for once) happy tears fall freely. The gift was the perfect end to a perfect night. Then, he remembers something.

Curious, he carefully pulls the lid off the box, shifting the object inside in search of the note he had noticed earlier. It ends up falling out on to the floor, and Kihyun reaches down to grab it before slowly unfolding it with shaky hands.

_Nothing you photograph will ever be as beautiful as you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Hoseok :( and btw, if you thought this was sad you're in for a rough road ahead my dudes, hoooboy. but there will be fluff I promise! I mean the fireworks were cute right? :')  
> thank you to all my readers and those who have left kudos, ily guys <3 please drop a comment if you have time, I appreciate them sooo much!


	5. Photograph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god this SUCKS im sorry & its really short. It's just I didn't have much planned for this part, like these couple of chapters because most of the good stuff happens later on so just bear with me. I promise I have something interesting planned for the next chapter! *cough* s m u t ;)

He stays seated at the door for what feels like hours but are probably minutes, back resting against cool plaster and legs tangled together as he reminisces on this night, past nights, and every previous moment of being alive. He feels as though he’s falling through the memories, tearing them up like a comet hurdles through the galaxies and purposely destroying ones he wishes to erase from his being.

Nothing, no night in the city or any amount of cash could ever compare to the feeling of the fireworks that set themselves off inside whenever he is around Hoseok. He doesn’t know what to call it, or maybe he does and just pretends he doesn’t. Maybe, deep down, he secretly wants to label it, wants to let himself fall in order to be caught.

He laughs to himself, all alone in this dark, abandoned hotel room.

Nobody ever caught Kihyun.

Not once in his pathetic life on this Earth has someone been there to break his fall. All Kihyun has ever known is the pain of hitting the ground, of crashing and burning until the fire swallows him up and refuses to spit him back out. And his parents? They stood there. Stood there and watched him burn.

He brushes his fingertips along the camera’s edges, admiring every little detail and taking in the features. He watches the way the moonlight that spills in from the window catches the lens, glaring and shining like fine silver. It’s mezmerizing, inspecting the one thing anyone has ever bothered to gift him. Something so simple feels so... _heavy_ in his hand, as if it did not belong there and never will. The camera weighs his arm down like physical guilt, a ball and chain giving off the impression of a prisoner who locked himself in.

Something inside him screams to smash the object, dispose of it the way his parents would ask him to had they known it was in his hands at this moment. He tries desperately to shake away the feeling, to console himself and convince the inner voice that he is no longer under their influence. Even when he is alone, in the darkest corner of his small, cramped room, he still feels their hands weighing down on his shoulders, still hears the whispered voice of his scolding mother. He still feels the stacks of money burning holes in his dress pants pockets, begging to be spent, and he hates it. He wants a life where money is no object, free of orders and commands and sleepless nights spent writing reports for a job he despises. Kihyun dreams of unclipped wings and flight space, of city strolls and fireworks, a blissful freedom undescribed through all the words in the world.

And it would seem that the only person who could bring such a feeling, is Hoseok.

So, rather than smashing the device, the dancer boots up the camera.

He spends what must be near an hour setting it up and exploring the different functions, testing out angles and positions on the objects in his room. The lighting is not the best and everything within reach is quite dull, drab colours that mimic his previous mood. He walks around the entire place, searching for something to snap, but ends up deciding that his first picture needed to be much more special, and he sure as hell isn’t going to find anything like that in here.

With that, he pulls on a pair of socks and childishly races out the door, camera in hand and a smile on his face.

By the time he reaches Hoseok’s floor, it is nearly midnight and most have returned to their rooms to escape the outside world. He tip toes down the hallway, dancing along the carpeted surface and dodging any and all creaking spots. There’s no music to add to it, but the surrounding noise creates a symphony of everyday life that he uses to perform his mini routine, quietly racing down the narrow hall.

He takes a step, starting off with the billowing noise of the street down below. The world is awake beyond the windowsill, buzzing and breathing and sighing with all the voices and the internal thoughts that people are too afraid to speak aloud.

Another step, this time with a twist, toes pointed and leg flexing with grace. The smell of harsh cigarette smoke filters out from underneath a nearby door, followed by a round of laughter that sounds more like a wheeze, exhaling clouds of thick grey that twirl through the air and dissipate as Kihyun hurdles through them.

A grand jete here, followed almost immediately by soft and broken sobbing muffled by thick cotton. The sound is sad, heartbreaking- and he swears he can feel the man’s tears in his own eyes. The crying doesn’t cease for the entire walk to Hoseok’s door, resounding throughout the entire hotel on that summer night. And yet, not a single person bothered to open the door, for people seem to fear the unknown.

The dancer lands in a perfect stance once he reaches the end, standing up straight in front of room 162. The door is drab, grey as the smoke Hoseok used to inhale, a perfect match. It still reeks of nicotine, a constant reminder of all the decisions the man inside has made, and will make.

Kihyun knocks, a light tap of his knuckles that matches the rhythm of his beating heart inside his chest. The sound is gentle against the door, almost soundless, yet it can be heard from every corner of the floor.

He waits a good twenty seconds. In the time between when the door is closed and when it is open, he rocks back and forth on his feet and counts the cracks in the plaster. There’s too many to be safe, he thinks.

Just as he’s about to knock once more, the door is opened to reveal Hoseok in a too-big t shirt and boxers, blonde hair messy and wild, eyes and face still plagued by sleep. His features seem exhausted, angry even, upon being woken at this hour. He sighs, looking up.

All traces of fatigue vanish at the sight of that smile, his gaze moving to the camera held up in a small hand.

Kihyun is still smiling when he asks, “Want to help me try it out?” and gently shakes the camera strap for emphasis.

Hoseok feels his lips involuntarily move backward, revealing a genuine grin for the man he loves, standing in front of his shitty hotel room door in nothing but shorts and a large hoodie that he notices has been pulled past his fingertips.

 _Nothing_ would make him happier.

 

The scene is so familiar, mirroring a night neither of them will ever forget like clear glass that feels cool underneath their fingertips. Although the sun has long since gone down, the sky is filled with millions of lights and colours projected by the bustling city under their feet, displaying the raw beauty of the nightview at a perfect angle. The dark sky above contrasts to the shimmering golds, the playful pinks, and the flashes of snow-white that addorn the streets.

Hoseok watches as the beautiful dancer leans against the edge, teasing the railing with his weight and spreading his arms out to the sides. The artist would later swear that with those arms, gorgeous wings shadowed themselves across Kihyun’s back, stretching out as if to protect him if he were to fall. It’s a shame he isn’t the one currently holding the camera, because the view from where he stands is ten times more gorgeous than whatever the dancer is looking at.

The image he sees is one of a man who was really just a boy on the inside, childishly enjoying the night wind in nothing but shorts and a sweater that swallows his small frame. His arms are outstreched, reaching for the stars and begging to be taken away from here, as if preparing to leap off of the roof and take flight spontaneously. The figure is emphasized by the backround that surrounds him, a vast collection of lights and a skyline where earth meets air.

It’s breathtaking.

Hoseok tries fervently to quiet his racing heart, deciding the moment is perfect.

He walks over to the smaller man on shaky legs, freezing up on the spot when Kihyun notices his presence and turns ever so slightly to smile at him, before returning his gaze to the busy streets. The younger watches each car pass by, counting how many he can see from this height and letting his arms hang loosely over the railing.

Hoseok inhales, preparing himself.

“Kihyun,” he says, sounding almost panicked as the rest of his words die in his throat, as if he were choking on cigarette smoke, like he had never given up the habit in the first place. His fists tighten at his sides when Kihyun looks at him again, confusion causing his face to display curiosity in the form of a pout. His eyebrows arch and Hoseok finds even _this_ beautiful, the wonder and the dream lust he sees in those eyes. The picture of Kihyun standing there, angelic as he breathes in the city air and pushes his hair back in a swift motion, is enough to make his heart stop altogether.

There’s silence between them for a moment, sounds of city life and airplanes flying in the distance filling the gap between the question and the answer.

Kihyun waits for him to speak, and when he doesn’t receive any indication that he will he pushes with a soft “Yes?” so quiet and gentle it could have been mistaken for a dull whisper. All the courage Hoseok had built up falls apart and shatters, bits of glass rain weighing down on his heart and trapping the three words in his throat. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t bring himself to speak.

There’s hesitation in his voice when he mutters “Nothing,” casting his gaze somewhere beyond the skyline of all the buildings beyond the rooftop. Kihyun is confused, intrigued even, but decides to drop it in favour of creating more happy memories. Why should he be sad in a place like this?

“Hey,” he tries, breaking out in a shy smile once more, “take my picture?”

The younger thrusts the camera into Hoseok’s hands, gesturing for him to take the device. Again, there’s hesitation, but he ends up accepting the offer, taking hold of it gingerly. He takes several steps back, enough to know he’s capturing the dancer’s entire body, and focuses the lens.

He doesn’t immediately take the picture, admiring the way Kihyun’s form is almost sihlouetted by the bright, flashing lights in front.

A smile. A flash to indicate the snap of a photograph, and he’s done.

The instant the photo is taken, the camera spits out a tiny picture, slowly fading into a image. He takes it out, shaking it a little before beckoning Kihyun over to see it. They wait a good five minutes, just sitting there and chatting before checking on it once more.

It’s beautiful.

The picture perfectly captures every curve, every dip of the dancer’s graceful body, palms facing the sky and fingers pointing towards the clouds like tiny feathers. The railing and figure who are the main subject of the frame are ironically silhouetted, adding effect to the bright lights and starry sky that paint the background, giving off a nostalgic yet tragic vibe.

As much as Kihyun appreciates the stunning photo, he shakes his head with a small smile when Hoseok offers it to him, pushing it back into his chest and closing his fingers around the paper to protect it. “I want you to keep it,” he reasons, “You took it after all.”

The artist feels his heart flutter at the kind words, love seeping into his veins and warming up his entire body with happiness. He can’t help but gently grasp the front of the smaller man’s hoodie, softly pushing their lips together and cradling him against his chest.

They stay like that for who knows how long, the older pinning Kihyun to the railing and kissing him to the rhythm of the cars that speed past and the wind that remains ever so light. It’s blissful, maybe he could even dare to call it _perfect-_ but he can’t fight the weight on his shoulders as he clutches the mini photograph a little tighter behind Kihyun’s back.

After they slowly pull away, Hoseok puts a hand on the younger man’s head, smooths his silky hair back and says sincerely, “Thank you.”

 

When Hoseok returns to room 162, he can still feel the dancer’s hands in his own. He can hear his soft laughter, see his bright smile and smell his lilac scent on his neck, taste his lips and his warm skin. Each and every part of Kihyun, inside and outside, he believes to be truly beautiful.

He loves the younger’s delicate hands that balance his poses, twirl through the air as he spins with grace no other human could hope to accomplish. He loves his structure, his shorter yet slender, nimble frame that fits so perfectly in his arms as if it were made to be held by him, as if it were crafted for Hoseok alone. His cheekbones always shone so fair underneath the light, be it the moon, the sun, the shining stars or the dim glow of his hotel room’s old lamp. His eyes reflected dreams he wished to capture but held inside nightmares inescapable.

 Hoseok thinks that if there could be a person who is a walking definition of pure, raw beauty, Kihyun would be it.

He loves Kihyun, he’s sure of it. It isn’t haste, or even lust, it’s untouched affection never felt before by someone like him. There has never been and never will be again a person such as this dancer, so different from the rest that he meets on the street with each day passing, a fallen angel cruelly outcast.

He fell in love with a dancer one night on a rooftop in the summer. He recalls the dawn lights that flooded the sky, the wings there one second, then gone the next. Hoseok remembers the tendrils of steam that erupted from his mouth and surrounded the dancer’s body as he leaped through the air, the illusion of flight created using his refined skill.

He knows he’s in love, _hell,_ he’s known it the second they met officially that night with the city’s nightview as their witness.

So why couldn’t he do it?

He drops himself on his bed with a sigh, burying his face in the sheets and inhaling the lilac scent that lingers on the cotton. It fills his mind with instant comfort, freeing up his senses and clearing his head.

Hoseok pulls the scarred notebook out from underneath the tattered pillow, caressing the leather binding and carefully running his finger along the rip that covers the front. It’s been ages since anything or anyone in this world has given him reason to open it.

Slowly, he lifts up the cover and flips it open to expose a lined page, covered in inked words that he has not seen in weeks, maybe even months. He skips reading the contents, choosing to do so later in the night, having opened it for a different reason this time.

Hoseok grabs the photograph from his back pocket and gets up off the bed to retrieve a piece of tape from his work desk. After he grabs enough to cover every corner of Kihyun’s photo, he places it directly underneath the contents of the first page, straightening it out until he is satisfied.

Realizing he had forgotten to write down a date, he grabs a sharpie and scrawls something down on the space underneath the image, writing a small note and today’s date to follow it.

_“The night I couldn’t tell you that I loved you. 16.06.10”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you're wondering what's written in the notebook huh


	6. important update!!

I'm so sorry that I've kept anybody who still reads this waiting so long!! I plan to finally get off my ass and update this fic before the end of this week, maybe even by Tuesday if I can actually stop being lazy.

again, I'm sorry that I've waited literal months to update this but thanks to anyone still here! I promise I'll make it as beautiful and heartbreaking as possible for you all ;)


End file.
